PART 2, CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 4
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I
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"You can’t answer that?” D asked. It was in the same low voice as always, but his foe, a good thirty feet away, still heard it with perfect clarity.
For a heartbeat, a stunned expression spread across the lovely young girl’s maddened countenance. But it didn’t last long. The sphere didn’t appear to move as it rotated so that the girl and D faced one another. Did she realize D had chosen the community center to lure her out?
Completely expressionless, the girl fired her beam cannon.
The instant the stream of blistering heat produced a heat shimmer near the weapon’s muzzle, D started his horse galloping with all its might. But when D abruptly disappeared from the melting, steaming path, the Weapon Master didn’t think it strange. It wasn’t her crazed brain that sensed this; it was her intuition.
There’s no way such a gorgeous man could exist in our world.
As D left his horse and sailed down, the girl’s survival instincts repelled the Hunter’s sword. D bounded in the same direction as the blade and at the same speed, not losing his balance in the least as he touched back down to the ground.
“That’s an electronic barrier,” the hoarse voice indicated. “With that last needle, you caught her off guard, but now she’s got her eye on you. Her survival instincts have been triggered.”
The sphere backed away without a sound. The scenery that was visible behind it was distorted, undoubtedly due to the force field.
D suddenly felt a terrific weight across every inch of his body.
“Oh, no! She’s pinning us down with this force field—we’ve gotta make a break for it!”
Before the hoarse voice had finished speaking, white smoke gushed from the back of the sphere. Trailing long plumes of that same smoke, thin objects reflected the sunlight as they climbed steeply. Dazzling flames spouted from their tails as the pencil missiles followed their sensors into the force field—into the powerful hand that was outstretched . . . and the mouth that had opened in it. All thirty missiles were inhaled, and the instant the last had been swallowed, thirty feet of flames and black smoke stretched from that tiny mouth.
A meaty little face formed on the hand’s surface and groaned with great pain, “That was a hell of a meal.”
D closed the distance between himself and the Weapon Master in a single bound. His blade came down in a deadly diagonal slash—and vivid sparks flew from the surface of the sphere. It’d literally escaped by a hair’s breadth. Not halting there, it retreated toward the center of town.
And D was still ready to give chase. He started to take a step, but then halted. The scenery before him was distorted—a force field had been activated. It was like a black hole, with the power to reduce even a steel battleship to its constituent atoms the instant it made contact. Not even a void existed within it. It was a parting gift from his opponent.
“So, she took that needle from you, no problem? Must be a cyborg or some kind of amplified human being,” D’s left hand murmured as the Hunter returned his sword to its sheath. “But those kids—that was just too bad.”
D turned toward the community center. Flames had begun to spring up in various parts of the collapsed building. Sue and Matthew were nowhere to be seen. D had left the two in an extremely dangerous situation, and then failed them.
Giving a small whistle, D summoned his cyborg steed. Just as he settled into the saddle, a crimson beam of light skimmed past his right cheek. D turned around.
This young man could even sense the murderous intent of a machine. That was why it was practically impossible to get the drop on him. But he hadn’t dodged the shot.
A jeep was approaching from the end of the path that ran to the west. Coming down the trail, it stopped beside D. The wagon and car remained in the community center parking lot.
Behind the jeep’s wheel, Greed turned his gaze from the blazing community center and the still, vapor-shrouded barley field and back to D, saying, “Fought the Weapon Master, didn’t you?”
As he looked D over from the top of his head down to the tips of his boots, the man’s good eye swiftly filled with admiration.
“And yet, you don’t have a blessed mark on you. What are you, some kind of monster?”
Greed’s one good eye bulged as he trained his gaze on the vicinity of D’s hip. He thought he’d heard low, hoarse laughter. However, he immediately looked up and grinned as he said, “I think you’d best go into hiding after all. Having two monsters running around here would just leave me on edge.”
Apparently the warrior was still determined to fight alone.
When he looked at the collapsed community center, a sad expression came to his face, and he asked, “You don’t mean to tell me they were in there?”
D nodded.
“Damn,” Greed said with a shrug, and then he clapped D on one shoulder. “Those were some good kids, weren’t they?”
After that remark, Greed asked, “Where’d the girl get to?”
“The center of town.”
“Thank you kindly. Don’t take it so hard. And stay the hell out of this!”
Getting back in the jeep, he started the engine and raised one hand in parting. He wore an affable smile.
The jeep raced off down the path. After watching it go for a while, D got back on his cyborg horse and headed over to the car and wagon.
-
There were too many things Greed couldn’t understand. He didn’t know how or why the village’s entire populace had been slaughtered. When he’d returned to the village, everyone had been stained with red. Most of the villagers had died in their houses, but those who’d noticed something was wrong and tried to run had been murdered in the streets. The Weapon Master could do it—he realized that in an instant. But why?
He’d learned of the madness while he was searching the village, when the other warriors attacked him. The reason he’d somehow managed to fight them off was because they were mainly armed with gunpowder-based firearms, while Greed’s weapon was a far more powerful and accurate laser rifle, and as they’d approached him, they’d made no attempt to remain silent.
But where had this madness come from? On rare occasions, humans became infected with a virus that caused insanity. However, as only the warriors and the Weapon Master were affected, it was impossible to deny the possibility that it’d been induced artificially. He’d told D as much.
And when I find out who did this, I’m gonna tear them to pieces.
The faces of the village mayor and his daughter Vigne rose in Greed’s mind. When he’d come to the village as a drifter seeking work, the other villagers had mocked and berated him, but the mayor had given him a menial job on his farm. For a whole year he did manual labor in exchange for three meals a day, and then the mayor selected him to be a warrior. Greed still remembered the words he’d said: “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”
If he would have said he’d never wanted to run off during those days of hard physical labor, it would have been a lie. But whenever his exhausted body transmitted that thought to his brain, Vigne had always miraculously appeared. And each time her pale, slender hands had held a boxed lunch. “From my papa,” was all the girl said as she handed him the box, and though she turned around immediately, for a second their eyes met, and she didn’t try to look away. Greed remembered well her plump, pink cheeks and the large eyes that had reflected him. The world ain’t all bad, he’d thought. Why not try toughing it out a little longer?
In this village festooned with blood and corpses, the very first place he’d gone was the mayor’s house. The mayor lay in the foyer, while Vigne had fallen in the hallway in front of her bedroom. The mayor had been shot through the heart; half of Vigne’s face was missing. The damaged portion was charred to a crisp—she’d taken a savage blast of heat from a beam cannon. The remaining half of her face wore an oddly peaceful expression, and that was the only thing that kept Greed from losing his mind. At the very least, it left him ready to fight with a cool head.
He’d slain each and every one of his foes, and kept from getting killed in the process. He knew a lot about the Weapon Master. In truth, he didn’t want to fight her. But it was the sight of the mayor and Vigne dead that madly fanned the flames of vengeance in his heart.
I’ll kill ’er if it’s the last thing I do.
Trembling with rage as he steered the jeep, he had a lethal gleam in his one good eye. Though he drove around the center of town, there was no sign of the Weapon Master. Undoubtedly she was repairing the damage D had dealt her.
Could it be she’d left the village?
Greed turned his vehicle toward the gates. In less than two minutes he was there.
A figure in vivid vermilion garb stood at the entrance to the village.
“What the hell . . . ,” he muttered, unconsciously leveling his rifle.
Halting the jeep about fifteen feet from the figure, Greed called out to him, “Who the hell are you?”
The robed figure started to take a step forward.
“Freeze. You can do your talking from right there.”
“My thanks,” said the man in the robe. He had a low voice that carried well. “I’ve been following the waterways to my destination, but I’m terribly tired. They call me Curio.”
“This might be a stupid question, but are you the one who did this to the village?”
“You are correct, sir. Kindly stop that.”
The instant the man had finished the first remark, Greed had started to pull the trigger. But his finger wouldn’t move.
“We both need to be prudent in our actions. Let’s discuss this at length.”
-
The Weapon Master had concealed herself in a secret location known only to the mayor and herself. There was a weapon warehouse on the northern outskirts of the village, and the rock beneath it had a natural cavern large enough to fit an entire factory. Having already climbed down from her transport, the Weapon Master lay on a simple steel bed. The space around her was filled with lockers and racks full of weapons and ammunition. Scattered about were various tooling machines. The warehouse aboveground was just camouflage, and here underground was the real storage facility, as well as a factory for weapon production and repair.
Her head hurt terribly. Pierced by D’s needle, her brain had long since ceased to function; a spare electronic brain had taken control of her body. The thoughts of the electronic brain were almost entirely limited to combat, but to allay the risk of danger, it’d been adjusted to allow a few normal thought processes. An engineer who’d come from the Capital did the work. After finishing the job, he stared intently at the Weapon Master and said rather emotionally, “I used to be in the service of the Nobility. As a result, until a year ago I was a rolling stone. Looks like you’re in the same boat. Outcasts have always gotten a raw deal, and they always will.” And then he’d left.
Nothing was known of the Weapon Master’s roots. As an infant, she’d been abandoned in front of the village gates while they were changing guard shifts. At the time, the village was in the midst of a famine, and there wasn’t enough to feed an outsider. Normally, she’d have been left out—without mercy—to be eaten by monsters or supernatural creatures. A single, authoritative declaration from the mayor that she might one day prove useful had saved her. The baby was dubbed Eris, and she was raised by a widow in the village. The mayor footed the bills for her care.
From the time she was very young, anyone could see that Eris demonstrated outstanding abilities. She had excellent reflexes, coordination, and mental faculties. “If she had the physical strength of a man, she’d be positively superhuman,” a member of the Frontier Medical Corps had declared during a periodic call on the village. And when Eris turned fifteen, she was appointed Weapon Master.
Villagers or merchants promptly sold most of the innumerable weapons manufactured in the village, but the village warehouse held some extremely advanced weapons and items so dangerous their sale was prohibited. It would have been impossible to list all of the villages that had been slyly infiltrated or even openly attacked by thieves or bandits who learned of such bounty. On such occasions, the village’s Weapon Master would arm himself or herself with the most potent munitions in storage and bring the fight to them. The Weapon Master only emerged once all the warriors had been slain.
Regardless of how lethal the armaments might be, if the Weapon Master was a human being, his or her performance in battle would be limited. In this village, they decided to make their Weapon Master a cyborg to overcome those human limitations. It was left to the mayor to persuade her. Eris silently agreed. The widow who’d raised her had informed her of her destiny, and as she’d grown up she hadn’t really planned on going anywhere or doing anything. She was an orphan the village had taken in. So she would work for the good of the village.
The price Eris paid for her refreshingly earnest decision was an electronic backup brain and highly sensitive sensors implanted in her body. In place of her womb was a singular weapon, the only one of its kind; it’d been decided during its testing stage not to use it. Thus, the most dangerous item the girl defended was implanted in her own body.
Cut off from her crazed brain, her electronic brain retained memories of what had happened during her insanity, but allowed her to function normally again solely in her capacity as the Weapon Master. She’d returned to her senses. Eris now decided that she would rest her weary flesh, then repair her conveyance and make adjustments to her weapons.
Feeling terribly thirsty, Eris got out of bed and went over to a spigot close by. The facility inside the cavern consisted of materials that had been brought there in secret and improvements made over the years by a series of mayors, their families, and the Weapon Masters. The water drew from a subterranean source.
She twisted the valve, and then filled her cup from a vigorous flow of water. After emptying the cup and returning it to its place on the shelf, Eris walked toward the tooling machinery in the back. She went ten or fifteen feet before she halted. Her electronic brain and other sensors had detected a presence behind her.
As she turned around, she simultaneously drew an oversized firearm with an ammo clip in the front.
The first thing to catch her eye was a dress evocative of watery-blue depths. Needless to say, the woman’s good looks were startling, as was the fact that she was dripping wet from the top of her head to the hem of her dress. Come to mention it, even her skin was like water. If left to her own devices, she might have turned back into water or perhaps evaporated.
“WhO . . . aRe YoU?” the Weapon Master inquired mechanically.
“I’m known as Lucienne.”
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II
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Respectfully bowing her head, the water witch said, “There’s no place water goes that I can’t enter. And I arrived here in the village faster than another individual—a certain murderer—by following this aquifer underground.”
She’d no doubt imagined what the most likely question from Eris would be.
“ThE wArRiOrS aNd I wEnT mAd AfTeR hEaRiNg A sErMoN bY a MaN iN a RoBe. WhErE iS hE? If He’S oNe Of YoUr CoMpAtRiOtS, hE cAn GiVe YoU tHe LaSt RiTeS nOw.”
Suddenly, the firearm howled. The weapon’s report echoed off the rocks, and a tiny hole opened in Lucienne’s forehead. Fluid gushed from her brain—but it was all water.
“It’s no use.”
Quickly running to the wall to her left, Eris got a flamethrower. Grabbing it by the pistol grip attached to its nozzle, she pointed it at Lucienne.
“WhIcH wIlL WiN, tHe PoWeR oF fIrE oR wAtEr? LeT’s SeE.”
This time, there was nothing else to discuss—and the water witch caught a six-thousand-degree blast of flames in the face. Steam roiled up. Lucienne leaped to one side. She didn’t have a head—the flames had seen to that. A heartbeat later, a semitransparent lump bubbled up on the stump of her neck. The flames besieged the water witch once again. The right half of Lucienne’s body was reduced to steam and vanished.
Still in that horrible form, the water witch retreated toward the spigot. The flames pursued her ruthlessly. Water splashed against the floor. The instant Lucienne touched it, her body melted away, becoming a large volume of water that slapped against the ground. The flying droplets were carefully dried up by six thousand degrees of fire.
-
“What have we here?” someone said, giving a few little sniffs.
-
Lowering the temperature of the flames, Eris gave a blast to the spigot, evaporating every last drop of water before tightening the valve and going back to bed. This monster could appear at will anywhere there was water. The one who called herself Lucienne and another one had come to the village ahead of someone else, and as a result, she and the warriors had gone insane and slaughtered the villagers. Apparently it was Lucienne’s compatriot that had caused them to do so. Eris would definitely kill both this person and Lucienne.
However, she got the feeling something wasn’t right. She’d gone over her memories repeatedly, but there was a section that was completely blank. Even her electronic spare brain couldn’t fix it.
She wondered what that woman had come here to do. Perhaps she’d believed that Eris was still under her compatriot’s spell and had arrived to give her new instructions.
After she’d had some rest, she would arm herself and eliminate them for sure. Her memories of the slaughter of the villagers left a twinge in her heart as her spare brain deleted them.
Eris fell asleep.
-
When Eris awoke again, it was because she heard a sound. There was someone beyond the iron door.
She ran, the wind swirling in her wake. She’d already decided what she’d grab. Pulling a laser rifle from the rack, she braced it at hip level.
The door began to open, and she sent a crimson beam of light through the gap. The beam moved in a diagonal line from bottom to top. The top half of the door clattered to the floor; the edge of the cut was molten red. The foe on the other side of the door would’ve been sliced in two in exactly the same fashion.
A sharp pain shot through her right wrist. A stark needle protruded from the skin. Pulling it out, Eris hurled it without even looking at her target. The attack was entrusted to her electronic brain and its sensors. It flew with a force that could penetrate iron, but D stopped it with his left hand.
“HoW dId YoU kNoW i WaS hErE?” Eris asked.
The question and its answer lay on the periphery of her electronic brain.
“There was the smell of gelled oil,” a hoarse voice said. “You used a flamethrower. Can’t say the exhaust system here did a perfect job of breaking down the color and scent of the smoke. Hey! If you’re gonna attack, you’d better raise the muzzle before you pull the trigger. But this guy will put needles through both your eyes before you can do that.”
“I pUt My fIeLd Up.”
“There’s something I’d like to ask you,” said a steely voice.
Eris felt dizzy. The instant she heard his voice, something other than the mind of the Weapon Master became conscious of the handsome features of the young man before her.
“Was it you that killed the villagers?”
“YeS . . . i ThInK . . .”
“You mean you’re not sure?”
“I cAn’T sAy FoR cErTaIn. PaRt Of My MeMoRy Is MiSsInG.”
“Who caused you to go crazy?”
“A mAn In A vErMiLiOn RoBe. I tHoUgHt I wAs On My GuArD, bUt ThE nExT tHiNg I kNeW, hE wAs RiGhT bEsIdE mE. AnD hE wHiSpErEd To Me. ToLd Me I sHoUlD gO cRaZy.”
“You remember that pretty well. Oh, that’s right—you have an electronic brain, don’t you?” said the hoarse voice.
“YoU dEsTrOyEd My NoRmAl BrAiN. On AcCoUnT oF ThAt, I rEtUrNeD tO mY sEnSeS. I dOn’T kNoW iF i ShOuLd ThAnK yOu Or TaKe My VeNgEaNcE oN yOu.”
“What’ll you do now?”
“FiNd ThE oNe WhO pUt Me UnDeR a SpElL aNd KiLl HiM.”
As D stared at her quietly, he said, “The whisperer can do that to machines, too.”
A time of silence flowed between the two of them.
The tension simply drained from Eris’s body.
“YoU hAvE mY tHaNkS.”
“For what?” the hoarse voice said, sounding rather proud of itself.
“The foe you used the flamethrower on—was she water?” D asked.
“ThAt’S rIgHt.”
“She can appear anywhere there’s water. Be careful.”
And saying this, the Hunter turned around.
Eris watched without a word as his powerful but completely undefended back disappeared behind the iron door. If she’d fought him now, she’d have undoubtedly been slain—or so her electronic brain believed.
-
Going outside, D headed for the community center. The sun was still high.
“You seem bushed,” D’s left hand remarked with heavy sarcasm.
The Hunter was astride his cyborg horse.
“Humans live in the world of the day, Nobles in that of the night—and you’re both, but neither. Wonder if you’ll ever find a world that suits you. Oof!”
With his hand still balled into a fist, D rode forward.
About ten minutes later, the destroyed community center came into view—he’d reached the path through the fields where he’d had his battle with Eris. The wagon and car were parked by the ruins.
Halfway down the path, D looked back. He’d heard a faint engine sound coming from the west—from up high.
The form coming closer was that of a single-seater jet helicopter. Greed sat in an open seat like that of a go-kart. There was no windshield. His left hand gripped the flight stick, and his right held his laser rifle. His emotionless face was unsettling.
“That bastard—he’s been possessed!”
At the same time his left hand spoke, D kicked his mount’s flanks, spurring it into a leap. Without a sound, a deep crimson light shot down at him. A hole burned through the cyborg horse’s neck, and it toppled onto one side. Earth and sand flew into the air.
A flash of white streaked from D’s left hand toward the helicopter. Just before it got there, the helicopter climbed straight up. Blazing through the air, the rough wooden needle vanished.
Once it reached an altitude of at least three hundred feet, the helicopter started to circle. For all his strength, there wasn’t much D could do at that range.
Blazing arrows rained down. Fire rose from the path. Flames engulfed a farmhouse.
D ran to the left, where he could see the village. Flaming arrows followed after him, getting closer and closer. The next one could prove deadly.
Without warning, the helicopter listed to one side. Its balance suddenly upset, it fell toward the center of town. Right after it vanished behind a row of houses, there was the dull thud of an impact, and then a few seconds later a pillar of flame arose, accompanied by black smoke.
Listening to the sounds of the destruction all the while, D walked toward the community center. He didn’t so much as glance in the direction where Greed had gone down.
“You know, it wasn’t Greed himself who was behind that attack. If he’s lucky, he might’ve survived.” Breaking off there, the hoarse voice then said, “Don’t know if that would mean we’ve gained a foe or lost an ally. I really can’t say.”
D had already reached the community center. Matthew and Sue peered down at him from the driver’s seat of their covered wagon. Sue held a motorized crossbow with both hands. Though it was said even a child could use one, having the eight-pound weapon score a direct hit on a helicopter at an altitude of three hundred feet was more than most young girls could do. Undoubtedly, her hit was the result of being incredibly desperate, mentally and physically.
The instant her eyes met D’s, Sue dropped the weapon at her feet and slumped to the ground.
“How’s that for a girl of fourteen? Seems humans can fight like mad even for someone else’s life.”
Naturally, D said nothing to that mocking remark from his left hand.
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III
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The two children hadn’t gone into the community center. D had chosen a far more secure location for their hideout— the interior of Count Braujou’s vehicle. This was one reason D had kept the vehicle even after the count’s demise. Of course, only a Noble could use one of the Nobility’s cars, but when D touched his left hand to the vehicle’s door and whispered, the door opened easily and allowed the children to enter.
“Sue! Sue!” Matthew cried out as he shook his sister wildly, but restraining him, D put his left hand against the girl’s face. Matthew watched in amazement as the lifeblood returned to her waxy skin and her eyelids opened.
“How’d you get out of the car?” D inquired after a short time. He’d instructed the computer that controlled the vehicle not to let the two of them out under any circumstances.
“I don’t know. We were looking out the window and saw you were in danger. I figured we had to do something to help you. Remembering that we had a crossbow in our wagon, I shouted at the car to let me out. I said it over and over—and then, the door actually opened.”
D put his hand on the girl’s head, saying, “You saved me—thank you.”
The girl’s face colored with a rosy flush.
“You’re just like her, you know.”
“Huh?”
“Your mother. We fought together once. Your face looks just like hers did then.”
Glittering beads welled up in the girl’s eyes. Before they could roll down her cheeks, D turned his gaze to the road and said, “Let’s go.”
“Okay.”
Matthew’s face had stiffened. Dark shadows altered his features—shades of embarrassment and anger. He heard a voice in his ear say, “Go back to the car. And another thing—that crossbow’s heavy. Next time, help her hold it.”
When Matthew turned to look, D had already started walking off toward another cyborg horse.
-
A few minutes later, the group started forward, headed for the highway. Sue and Matthew were inside the car.
“You lured out the person who slaughtered the villagers to see whether or not Valcua’s seven were behind it. By making it look like you stashed those two in the community center, you got to meet that girl—that’s all well and good, but there’s something that just doesn’t make sense to me,” the voice from D’s left hand said in all seriousness. “First of all, all the warriors except Greed went crazy. That looks like Curio’s doing, but he wouldn’t order them to go nuts. There was no real point in doing that. Telling ’em to kill you and the two kids—now, that’d be more like it. So if that’s the case, who gave the order? And if it was the Weapon Master and the warriors who killed the whole village, what was the reason for the slaughter? Even if Curio and Lucienne were here, this doesn’t seem like their style. At least, they don’t act like homicidal maniacs. Which would mean—”
D gazed straight ahead without saying a word.
“—There’s another assassin here besides them. D, you remember what Sigma told you? It said it was sending an assassin after you, too.”
In Galleon Valley, in its last seconds with D, the antiproton computer had indeed told the Hunter that.
“Five of Valcua’s underlings remain, but how many assassins could Sigma have sent? This is shaping up to be a hell of a trip!”
There was no reply to this, but presently D halted his steed before the chunks of stone that buried the road. Getting off his horse, he took the blasting charges Matthew had supplied from the front seat of the wagon and went over to the rocks. Making a light leap up to cling to the surface of one rock, he made two or three more bounds before disappearing on the far side of the pile. It took about two minutes for him to reach the top of the rock heap.
“You sure are one scary character,” his left hand groaned, sounding deeply impressed. “You set what I calculate to be the perfect-size charge in exactly the spots I would’ve chosen.”
D still had the cords for a number of charges coiled around his right arm.
Suddenly D turned around. Countless figures were approaching from the direction of the village.
“Well, what do we have here?” the hoarse voice said with interest. “It’s the villagers!”
There could be no question that these were the same people who’d lain in the houses and in the streets soaked in blood. Grins formed on faces stained with vermilion. The surging wave of the dead halted where the village road met the highway.
D leaped down in front of the foremost rank before they could take another step forward. Perhaps even the dead felt the unearthly aura that filled the young man, because the grins were wiped from every last face.
“What a handsome guy,” a middle-aged man facing D said, nearly moaning. His voice was quite clear. “You wouldn’t consider living in our village, would you?”
Each and every head nodded in unison at his suggestion.
“Your horse and your friends could live here, too. We’ll even give you houses and fields.”
Saying nothing, D peered at the man’s face. The man’s right eye was a gaping cavern of deep red, while his eyeball dangled down by his Adam’s apple. All that connected the latter to the former was a whitish optic nerve.
“I see. The whole point was to make an army of the dead. Now I get why everyone was slaughtered.”
The middle-aged man wore a perplexed look as he turned his eyes toward D’s waist, where the hoarse voice had originated.
Forgetting about the voice, the man reached one hand toward D’s shoulder, saying, “Come to the village.”
The man thought a white light flashed by his nose, and then his right arm fell off at the elbow. With a vacant expression the man first stared at his wound, and then toppled backward. A scream rang out. Not an act—a real one.
Could even the dead feel pain?
D jumped back.
“Come.”
“Live in our village.”
“Come back to our place.”
Male and female, young and old alike held their arms out as if to embrace D as they rushed toward him. Ahead of them, fiery blossoms bloomed. Flames and shock waves threw villagers in all directions with a roar. D had backed away only after igniting the charges. Whether they were dead or not, this young man had no kind thoughts toward his foes.
Black smoke streaming behind them like ticker tape, the remaining villagers attacked. The Hunter’s sword danced in the sunlight. Heads flew from the villagers as if they were jack-in-the-boxes. Out in the sun and without so much as a drop of blood being spilled, there was actually something invigorating about the scene.
The villagers had him vastly outnumbered. There was no way a single sword could stop a wave of more than a hundred villagers. But look! The instant the arc of D’s blade touched the dead, their heads were sent flying mercilessly. The fallen bodies overlapped, building a rampart with their own corpses. As the others tried to climb over it, silvery flashes shot out, adding their freshly decapitated corpses to the pile. Unable to set foot in the zone carved out by D and his sword, the villagers met a new death.
From the tail end of the visibly shrinking throng of living dead, one figure dashed off toward the village. A scorching beam of red angled down from the sky above to pierce the figure at the waist. As the body thudded to the ground, a white puppy jumped out at his feet and made a beeline for the village.
Aided by the blistering red beams of light, the glittering sword mowed down the villagers.
Less than five minutes later, a jet helicopter touched down in the center of the vast expanse of corpses. Inside it, holding a laser rifle, was none other than Greed.
When his eyes met D’s, the man frantically held out his left hand and said, “Don’t get the wrong idea! The shock of the crash brought me around. See, I grabbed another helicopter to come save you.”
“Who possessed you?”
“Some jerk in a red robe.”
When Greed saw that D was approaching, his body stiffened, but the gorgeous young man paid no attention to this as he pressed his left hand against the man’s brow. Something oddly cold sank into the warrior’s brain. For a second, he felt like screaming, and then the sensation vanished.
Pulling his left hand away, D turned his back on Greed and walked toward the villager who’d fled. Apparently the examination had ended.
The fallen villager was a young man who seemed to be around twenty, give or take a bit. He didn’t move at all.
“Is he dead?” Greed asked after following the Hunter, slouching forward a bit and looking down as he did so. “But I only shot him below the waist. He shouldn’t have died from that—well, aside from the fact that he was already dead, that is.”
“Are you certain he’s from this village?” D asked.
“Yeah, the guy’s named Egbert. Just a regular young fella.”
“He was possessed.”
The fact that only this average young man had tried to run made it clear that he wasn’t like the other villagers.
“But why’d he die?” Greed inquired somewhat dubiously.
“He had a dog with him,” D said. An almost imperceptible breeze tousled his long, black hair.
Even the slightest change in something truly exquisite could lead others to discover new beauty. Greed was in a state of rapture. The meaning of D’s words dawned on him only after the Hunter had begun walking toward the village.
“Oh, so whatever possessed Greed hopped over to the dog? If we don’t find it soon, it could move into someone else—but there aren’t any more villagers, are there?”
The warrior was about to walk off to his helicopter, but he halted at D’s voice.
“Stay here and watch over the kids.”
Though the words resounded against Greed’s eardrums, there was no longer any sign of their source.
“I just don’t get that guy,” Greed muttered pensively.
-
Entering the village by the back gate, D immediately put his left hand against the ground beneath the gates.
“You catch the scent?”
“Yep,” the hoarse voice replied. “Take a right on that little lane up ahead—but who would’ve thought we could track whatever’s possessing the dog by its scent? You’ve done me one better this time.”
D became a gust of black wind that raced down a side road. Up ahead was a row of three enormous structures, apparently warehouses. The shutter on the first one was open.
“Be careful. There’s the stink of oil and metal,” his left hand warned him.
When they’d closed to about ten feet, something like a black whip shot out from behind the shutter to coil around D’s right leg. His naked blade flashed out, cutting through the thing with ease, but just a second later, countless tentacles whipped out. There were easily hundreds of them, and they were made of steel. A dozen were left wriggling on the ground as he leaped back fifteen feet.
-