Grimgal of Ashes and Illusion - Volume 14.1 - Chapter 4.09

9. Blood

Even if the forest itself was guiding them, that didn’t make the road any shorter. A day and a night passed, and they still had yet to reach anything resembling a forest city.

On top of that, Wezel went into the bushes to take a piss or something, and he didn’t come back.

“...The hell, man?” Ranta grumbled. “I’ll go on without you, you know? Uh, not that there’d be much point. I don’t really have any business there...”

There was nothing else for it. Ranta plopped himself down on top of Wezel’s luggage, which was lying on the ground.

The fact was, the phosphorescent trail showing them the way had vanished a little earlier. If Ranta tried to get to Arnotu alone like this, he probably wouldn’t make it.

Something’s weird, he thought.

Honestly, Ranta had detected what was going on, and it wasn’t as vague as a mere “something.”

“I’m surrounded again,” he muttered. “Of course. More treants? No... that’s not it.”

Sighing, he scratched his head. Okay, what now? There’s a number of options. First, let’s try this.

Ranta got down off the luggage and jogged towards the bushes where Wezel had gone.

“Gotta piss, gotta piss...”

There was a sound of something cutting through the air, and Ranta stopped short of the bushes.

There was an arrow standing in the ground a little in front of his feet.

Ranta clicked his tongue, and put his hand on the hilt of his katana. “I told you, I’ve gotta piss!”

The arrow had come in from the left. When he turned that way, there was another arrow.

The second arrow was coming at Ranta’s chest.

“...!”

Ranta drew his katana and struck the arrow.

What is this sound? Footsteps? How many are there?

Turning back, there were pointy-eared men with swords leveled at him.

Elves, huh?

“Too close...!” he muttered.

The elves’ swords had come to a stop just short of nicking his throat.

He’d never have thought they’d get this close.

If it was just one, that would be one thing, but there were three of them. He should have noticed, normally. He didn’t think he’d gotten lax, but he must have let his guard down.

Still, these elves were skilled.

In particular, one of the three, the middle-aged elf in the middle, looked pretty capable.

“Human,” the middle-aged elf spoke. “What are you doing in our forest?”

Ranta chuckled. “How do you know I’m human? I could be an ogre or a demon, couldn’t I?”

“If you are such a vile being, let us end you here.”

“Whoa! Stop!” Ranta pushed up his mask with his left hand, allowing them to see his face. “Good guess. I’m not an ogre or demon. I’m human. What? I’m on, uh, a vacation? No, I’ve got business here... Well, I don’t. There’s a guy with me. I’m along for the ride...”

“You would appear to be alone,” the elf said coldly.

“H-He went off somewhere, okay?”

“You expect us to believe you?”

“Think about it. This is the Shadow Forest, right? I’m preaching to the squire here... No, that’s not it, how did it go? Well, anyway, I don’t have to tell you this, because you elves already know, but this place is nowhere a single human could wander into on their own. Right?”

“That is indeed true.”

“Right? I was led here with the Secret Art of the Forest.”

“Why would a human know the secret arts practiced by us forest elves?”

“No, that’s just it! Obviously, I don’t know anything about them. It wasn’t me, it was my traveling companion... Whuh?!”

He felt something wrap around his ankles. Looking down, some sort of ivy-like plant had grown and wrapped around both Ranta’s legs.

“Wh-Wh-What is this?!” he shouted.

“We will hear your excuses after this.”

“After...?”

There was another elf, behind the other three.

This elf was a woman.

Elves were generally on the slim side, but she looked thin even by their standards. He’d had a vague image of elves, especially the women, all having long hair, too. However, her silver hair was cut short.

What was the female elf doing, down on one knee, with both hands touching the ground?

“A shaman!” Ranta gasped.

In an instant, more vines than he could possibly count wrapped themselves around Ranta. They even forced themselves into his mouth and nose, instantly rendering him unable to breathe.

Whoa. I said, whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. This isn’t funny! I’m gonna die here... seriously!

Ranta passed out.

When he came to, he found he had been forced to sit in an incredibly tight place.

At least let me lie down, he wanted to gripe. They should have been able to afford him that much kindness, at least.

But, no, it was physically impossible. The ceiling was low, after all. It couldn’t get much lower than this. The breadth and depth of the room were short, too, each less than a meter. There was no space for him to lie down.

He had been stripped of his mask and relieved of his possessions, katana included.

The walls behind and on either side of him seemed rock hard, but they were apparently wood. The entire front side was a barred door. Was it made not of iron, or any other such metal, but of wood, too?

The barred door was wrapped with thorny plants, and they would definitely prick him if he touched them.

On the other side of the door was a corridor. It seemed there was light not far away, and some of it reached him here.

Was there no one in the corridor? He didn’t sense anyone.

“They were saying they’d hear my excuses later,” Ranta muttered. “Meh, someone’ll come eventually, I’m sure.”

However, wait as he might, not one person—no, maybe he should say not one elf—though either was fine, really, it didn’t make a difference, because no one showed any sign of coming.

“How about some food?” Ranta murmured. “Or some water? None? There is none? No, really? Man, no one warned me about this. You never told me about this. What the hell? Is this some kind of abandonment play? I’m going to sleep... or I would. But I can’t lie down...”

He couldn’t help but be disheartened by this.

In times like this, he ought to get worked up and keep his fighting spirit going, but that was no good. No, no. Absolutely not. He couldn’t do that.

People’s spirits go up and down. Even if he could control his temporarily, there would be side effects somewhere along the line. It wasn’t good to overthink things and get depressed, or to carelessly work himself up. He had to accept things as they were. His spirits would rise and fall, until they ultimately settled somewhere in the middle.

Through his mind flashed faces, faces, faces...

He didn’t dwell on any of them. He let them appear, then fade and vanish on their own.

The same with arms.

And chests.

Yeah. They were appealing to him, sure. Super appealing. But he didn’t dwell on them.

Not on thighs.

Not even on butts.

Even that blindingly bright smile—

“...Urgh!”

Ranta gritted his teeth. For some reason, that cheerful and soft smile, filled with innocence, and without ulterior motives, refused to vanish.

Gotta dispel it. Forget it. Forget it. Forget it already.

He knew.

He could never forget. There was no way he could. If that weren’t the case, Ranta wouldn’t be here now.

Why was he trying to get back to Alterna?

Because I want to see her.

Maybe she’d never speak to him again. That was fine. He just needed to see that face.

It’s stupid. I’ll see her face, and then what?

There’s nothing I can do now.

It’s meaningless.

I mean... she’s not going to smile at me anymore, right?

He heard footsteps. He wasn’t imagining them. They were approaching.

Ranta shut his eyes tight, breathing slowly.

“...Finally.”

His eyes opened.

“Hwhuh?” he let out in a strange voice.

There was a child standing in front of the bars. An elf, of course. They were longer-lived than humans, and their development was slower, but a child was a child. This one would be six in human years, seven or eight at most. Though her hair was cut short, judging by her face, it looked like she was a girl. She was holding something like a short staff.

Suddenly, it occurred to him that she resembled someone. That was odd, because he didn’t know many elves.

Oh. It was her. The silver-haired elf woman who had captured Ranta with that vine technique. This girl looked like that shaman. Though maybe he only thought that because they both had silver hair that was cut short for a girl.

The elf girl was staring at Ranta through the thorn covered bars. Her eyes were red as blood.

Ranta gulped. “You—”

“Human. If you want out, I will let you out.”

“...Huh?”

“Which will it be?” the elf girl asked.

“Well... if I said I don’t want out, I’d be lying.”

“Which will it be?”

“I want out.”

“Then you should have said so from the beginning. You disgust me.”

“I disgust you?” Ranta grumbled. “Listen...”

“I am Leaya.”

The girl who gave her name as Leaya knocked on the bars three times with her short staff.

Then—oh, whoa, what was this? The thorny branches that were wrapped tight around the bars came undone and slithered away.

Leaya pulled a key from her pocket, inserted it in the keyhole, and turned it. There was a clack, and it unlocked.

He felt like he was being tricked somehow, but Ranta opened the bar door and went out into the corridor. His waist hurt, his back hurt, his knees hurt—he hurt all over—so he knew it wasn’t an illusion. Ranta did some stretches, rotated his hips, and shook his wrists and ankles.

“Here I was, ready to be tortured, too,” he said.

“We have bigger problems now.”

“...What do you mean?”

“The forest is under attack,” Leaya stated calmly.

“Hmm,” Ranta said. “Well, ain’t that a shame. The forest is... wait, under attack?!”

“That is what I said, yes.”

“I heard you. But, under attack...? Oh, by the allied forces, huh? That’s gotta be it. They’re already attacking?”

“That’s why we no longer have time to waste on some suspicious human.”

“You forest elves sure are soft,” Ranta scoffed.

“Why?”

“It’s possible that a suspicious human could be an enemy spy, right?”

“Are you?”

“Well, no, I’m not, but still.”

“I know.” Leaya was expressionless, and awfully calm, too.

This was just Ranta’s imagination, but she probably had not come from a privileged household, or been raised with love from all around her. Besides, Leaya’s mature, unswerving eyes were red as blood.

“Leaya,” Ranta said. “Did an old man ask you to come let me out of this cage?”

“My mother did.”

“She’s the shaman with silver hair, like yours.”

“Yes. My mother’s name is Alorya. But...” Leaya lowered her eyes, biting her lip a little. “It was a strange old man who asked my mother to do it. I’ve never seen him before. It was a strange old man I’ve never met.”

“I see.” Ranta put his hand on top of Leaya’s head. Unconsciously. It didn’t suit him, but he didn’t feel like he’d messed up.

He followed his heart, blazing his own trail. That was his rule. If he wanted to pat a kid on the head, he was gonna do it whether it suited him or not.

“Either way, you’re the one who saved me,” Ranta said. “I owe you one. I swear I’ll pay you back. If there’s anything I can do, name it.”

“For a start, get your dirty hand off me.”

“Oh?” Ranta pulled his hand back.

Hesitantly, he looked at his own hand. Certainly, it was hard to call it clean. Actually, it was pretty damn filthy.

“You got anything to wipe it with?” he asked. “Uh, sorry about that...”