5
Al checked his surroundings. His vision was obscured by a thick curtain of white. He still seemed to be in a forest, though the details were vague. He couldn’t sense the two people who should have been beside him. Frowning, he struck his shoulder with his liuyedao.
“You’ve got to be kidding. This is exactly how they said it would go.”
He had taken the villagers’ testimonies with a huge grain of salt, only half believing them…and now they had come true.
Anyone who entered the forest with the spring would be enveloped in a thick mist, leaving them completely alone. Some people had managed to make it back, but if they were unlucky, the spring would pull them in, and—
“Meeting with the dead… Sorry, but I’m not exactly thrilled about that.”
Some thought the chance to reunite with the dead made the risk of disappearing worth it. To Al, that idea was nothing but unsettling.
“Never mind that. I’d have much rather gotten lost in all this fog with my princess and gotten lucky.”
Prioritizing his more primal urges over the mysteries of the universe, Al reached out with his liuyedao, stirring the mist. His sword tip met nothing. The once-dense trees were nowhere to be found. It was decidedly unnatural.
The general advice for people who got lost was to stay put. But his two companions—a rule-breaker and an ignoramus—would never follow that advice for their own reasons.
“I should go find them—wait, I can’t. Man, throw me a frickin’ bone…”
Realizing he had no choice but to be proactive, Al sighed in defeat and stepped forward into the mist.
The belief that fog and mist were bad omens was present in this world as well. While this mist wasn’t explicitly branded as inauspicious, its eerie nature was impossible to ignore.
His skin tingled with the tangible sensation of the mist’s “touch.” He strained his ears, hoping to reconnect with the others, but hesitated to call out. His reason? Intuition. A bad feeling gnawed at him—
“—Who’s there?”
He froze. Heavy breathing echoed somewhere in the mist. The sound clearly didn’t belong to Priscilla or Schult. It was unmistakably a man’s. Not one of his companions.
Al’s nerves tensed. He readied himself for battle as faint footsteps approached—direct, deliberate.
Very soon, a dead person would truly appear in that very spot—
“I found you—you filthy traitor.”
“……”
A burly old man emerged from the mist. He wore fine clothes but had a savage, muddy look in his eyes.
Al recognized him immediately. The man’s murderous gaze locked onto him.
“You…”
“Again—he’s. Not. Dead. Yet!!!”
Before the old man could unleash his wrath, Al swung his blade.
The old man didn’t react in time, and Al’s attack bit deep. Then, as if melting into the mist itself, he vanished without a trace.
Al, still breathing erratically, held his liuyedao high. His blade was spotless.
“So the rumors were just bullshit! Come on, at least show me a dead person. Bring me a dead guy!”
At the sight of the old man who had just come up in conversation—an apparition of a man who was still alive, no less—Al railed at the half-assed supernatural phenomenon. The plausibility of that meeting was what made it so absurd in such an obviously paranormal situation.
Not that Al’s opinions seemed to have much bearing on the situation. As he screamed and swung his weapon, a new collection of silhouettes emerged from the mist to take the fake Lyp’s place.
A towering man clad in full armor, a black-clothed figure gripping a longsword, a shirtless little man whose fist was a fusion of hand and blade—one after another, familiar faces appeared before Al. He sighed.
“A gladiator reunion is nice and all, but what is this? Did you guys all die while I wasn’t looking?”
“……”
There was no response. Instead, the black-clothed man’s blade flashed as he swung horizontally.
Al dove into the opening, crouching to dodge the silver streak of light. He had faced this exact attack thousands, millions of times before. His body still remembered what came next. He would line up a follow-up attack aimed at the knee, then skewer his opponent once they lost their balance.
The armored giant always lifted his arm before committing to a heavy attack. The little man would jump back in fear if charged recklessly. They hadn’t changed. If anything, they’d regressed.
“What a crappy reboot!”
As expected, the armored man raised his arm, and Al struck before the attack could land. The little man flinched and leaped back, just as Al predicted, and his liuyedao met him midair. But instead of blood, they both dissolved into mist, their false forms vanishing.
The next figure that emerged wasn’t a gladiator, but it was still someone Al knew. He gripped his sword tightly, feeling a surge of gratitude.
“Thanks for the helmet—what a lovely parting gift!”
With that, he lopped off the head of the guard who had given him the helmet as a farewell gift when he escaped the arena. The guard’s vulgar grin melted into the mist, and Al confirmed that the second wave of challengers had retreated.
“Way to creep a guy out… And hey, all of them were alive when I escaped. No wait—not Gajeet, I killed him.”
That perfect replica of his old acquaintance had been run through the stomach and was unmistakably dead. Maybe the rumors about reuniting with the dead were true after all.
“I smell bullshit… I mean, what’s the point in meeting the dead if you can’t choose which ones you see?”
If the dead were summoned at random, it would only torment those seeking them. Besides, even the living were appearing, completely invalidating the entire premise.
“But look at me, tearing this rumor apart piece by piece. What’s next? The afterlife?”
If that happened, Al would definitely end up on the missing persons list. The only way that could happen was if the mist itself killed him—or if something even worse happened.
“Oops, spoke too soon. Here comes the third wave…”
Grumbling, he readied his sword. The mist writhed unnaturally before him. A silent vortex of fog began to take shape, twisting into something new.
At this rate, nothing’s going to surprise me.
Or so he thought…
“……”
The being that emerged from the white mist was black. A darkness so complete that it seemed to swallow his whole field of vision.
A thin form, draped in an abyssal shade. The swirling mist was devoured by its presence, its mass swelling grotesquely. Within moments, all traces of mist were gone, consumed entirely, and the world before Al’s eyes was engulfed in an impenetrable black.
What stood before him was a taboo existence. Something that should never be.
“—Ah.”
A raspy breath escaped Al. He had never in his life felt such an oppressive gaze upon him.
He had pieced together that the mist revealed those with significance to him, whether they were living or dead. But this—this was different. This was wrong.
To show him this went beyond the boundaries of life and death. It was sacrilege to existence itself.
“Ah—AHHH!!!”
A deep, boiling rage erupted from within him. Al roared, giving in to his emotions.
Fueled by fury, he charged forward and slashed at the shadow with all his might. He had to.
But his scream cracked. His feet trembled. His sword slipped from his fingers and hit the ground before he could strike.
I can’t move. I still can’t move. There’s no way I can move. How could I? It’s impossible.
Not in a thousand…a million…a billion years. Even now—it’s still impossible.
His teeth chattered. His knees were about to give way.
As Al cowered, the shadow slowly advanced. The silhouette, shrouded in black, wore a dress of the same abyssal shade. The hem of the dress fluttered within the darkness as a pair of thin arms lifted gracefully.
One by one, her delicate, lithe fingers came into view, reaching for Al’s neck—quietly, gently, tenderly.
If she touches me, I’ll be at peace. This pain will be over. So…
His body had given out from sheer terror, and he had collapsed onto the ground. But in that moment, the subconscious paralysis gripping him loosened just enough for him to scoot backward, desperately trying to escape.
“Stop…no…I…I…!”
His voice cracked. His scream never fully formed.
The shadow paid no heed to his pleas. It drifted forward, undeterred, the distance between them closing once more.
Al was about to scream in despair, when—
“Huh?”
In the next instant, a shining crimson blade pierced through the black shadow’s chest from behind.
As Al sat there, stupefied, a beam of light emerged, swelling into a brilliant mix of red and white. The misty shadow burst into flames, the fire engulfing it completely until no trace remained.
“How absurd. That’s all counterfeits will ever amount to. Pathetic.”
A bored voice rang out from the other side of the crimson blaze. Standing beyond the flickering embers was Priscilla, her sword still gleaming.
The power of her blade burned away the mist-forged shadow until nothing remained. Right before Al’s very eyes…
“How…dare…?”
“……”
“How could you do that? Right in front of me… How dare you…? Gagh?!”
“Shut up. Don’t misdirect your anger at me, simpleton.”
As Al ground his teeth, seething with rage, Priscilla mercilessly swatted him with her sword. The impact flipped him over, his vision rolling as his head slammed against the ground.
“Agh—red… P-Princ—ooah! Hot! Gaaaah! Fire—I’m on fire!”
“A fitting punishment for your insolence. Let the fire of my sword singe your hair and teach you some humility.”
In a show of anger, Priscilla let her flames lick at Al’s helmet. He tumbled across the ground, frantically trying to extinguish them. When he finally put it out, he lay shamelessly sprawled out on the dirt.
“The more constraints a person has, the more spellbound he becomes by such amateur magic. This is what you get for pretending to be disinterested. Truly pathetic, truly droll.”
“P-Princess, Princess, are you real? You’re not another fake, are you?”
“If I step on you like I usually do, would the euphoria of it jog your memory?”
“It’s a perfect match! The real princess is here!”
Looking up at her cruel yet breathtakingly beautiful, tilted expression, Al sighed in relief, realizing he had returned to reality.
Echoes of terror from moments before still clung to him, but with the mist now dissipating, he reassured himself that the apparition had been nothing more than an illusion. No problems. Hopefully.
For now, he allowed himself to feel relief at reuniting with his companions, grateful that they were both safe.
“Didn’t you see anything in the mist, Princess?”
“From this low-level magic? I would never fall victim to it. You—stay still. The mist will clear in time. Schult will take care of it.”
“Schulty? But how?”
“I taught him the method. As long as Schult’s stupidity isn’t bottomless, there should be no problem.”
Al was bewildered by Priscilla’s confident declaration regarding the currently absent little butler. But his confusion wasn’t just about Schult—it was about how exactly the mist was going to be cleared.
“……”
With a sensation so undeniable, it could only be described as bendy, Al’s vision warped.
The world lurched, but only the scenery twisted and distorted. Priscilla remained firm, her arms still crossed. The surroundings started bending and breaking apart—but both Al and Priscilla were spared from those violent contortions. The mist tangled and unraveled in chaotic disarray until…
“No way.”
In the blink of an eye, the dense mist had vanished entirely, leaving Al and his companions standing in the forest. What’s more, they had somehow moved to a grassy knoll near a spring.
Before Al’s dazed eyes lay a small spring, its crystal-clear waters teeming with floating aquatic plants. Flowers swayed gently in the breeze, adding an almost picturesque serenity to the scene.
And right in the middle of the spring stood a young boy, submerged up to his hips, both hands raised high in the air.
“Schulty?! What the hell are you doing?!” Al gasped in shock.
Priscilla scowled at the spring in annoyance. “Schult dispelled the magic encircling the spring. It spewed mist, lured the lost, chained their souls, then dragged them to their watery graves. That was the evil magic at work here.”
Noticing the two of them, Schult’s face lit up, and he eagerly swam toward them.
“P-Princess Priscilla! Sir Al! I found it! The water mirror—I sank it into the water just like Princess Priscilla told me to!”
“Just like she told you to…?”
“The book she gave me—it was written in one of the old fairy tales!”
As Schult swam and chattered excitedly, Al’s breath caught in realization. The book. The very one Priscilla had given Schult to memorize, the one she had made him pore over even while they traveled. It contained—
“There was no shortage of legends about springs, lakes, and anything remotely riparian. In short, anywhere water flows can be a gathering point for mana. So natural phenomena like this happen from time to time.”
“It was written in the book—a secret on how not to fall under the water hollow’s spell!”
“It’s a silly fairy tale meant for children,” Priscilla remarked with an unconcerned wink. This did little to dispel Al’s shock.
Basically, Priscilla had figured out exactly what was wrong with the spring just from hearing snippets of village gossip.
“Princess Priscilla, it’s the water mirror. Break it, and the mist disappears.”
Schult waded out of the stream, soaking wet, and ran up to Priscilla. In his outstretched hands was a faintly glowing white crystal—the water mirror.
“Well done. You have my praise.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I am so happy to serve you well, Princess!”
As Priscilla took the water mirror with a nod, Schult’s face practically glowed with joy.
Watching the exchange from behind, Al scratched his neck grumpily. “Well, then, case closed? So the culprit was just too much stagnant mana…”
“If we were talentless, yes, we would make that conclusion and go on our merry way.”
Something in her voice made both Al and Schult freeze. A cruel undertone lurked beneath her words.
In the next instant, the water mirror burst into flame in Priscilla’s hand. The seemingly harmless mana crystal smoldered in the fire, and then—
“—!!!”
The water mirror suddenly transformed. It leaped from Priscilla’s grasp, twisting and contorting in midair. Four insect-like wings unfurled from a tiny blue body, its many beady eyes darting wildly in panic.
A grotesque fusion of human and insect, the abomination let out a shrill, inhuman shriek and tried to flee.
However—
“Did you really think I would let you escape so easily, evil spirit?”
With a flick of her sword, Priscilla sliced off its wings. The creature writhed as it was skewered through the stomach and pinned to the ground like an insect in a collection, its tiny limbs twitching helplessly.
“—!!!”
“Stop that incessant whining. You’re such a gruesome sight, your very existence makes me want to vomit.”
With a disgusted twist of her sword, Priscilla drove the blade deeper, eliciting another shriek from the abomination.
Witnessing this brutality up close, Schult’s legs gave out beneath him.
Al, on the other hand, let out a loud gasp. “Princess, is that a spirit…?”
“It’s exactly what it looks like. The impudence, the arrogance—it deserves a thousand deaths.”
“So this is an evil spirit, huh? First time seeing one of those…”
Al grimaced at the pitiful sight of the writhing creature. Evil spirits were still spirits, strictly speaking, though they were given the name because of their malicious nature. Spirits were primal life-forms drawn to mana, not bound by human concepts of good and evil.
However, some rare spirits displayed clear malice, just like this one. They were enemies of humanity, no different from demon beasts, and had thus earned their name.
“This thing used the power of the water mirror to lure people to the stream, drown them, and absorb their Odo. That’s how it gained strength. No better than a carnivorous plant.”
Over and over, all the missing persons had fallen prey to this evil spirit. Hoping to reunite with their deceased loved ones, they had followed a glimmer of hope into the mist. If they at least managed to see their dearly departed before their deaths, that might have been a small silver lining. But if their hopes remained unfulfilled even as they met their doom…
“Princess Priscilla, this evil spirit… What are you going to do with it?” Schult asked hesitantly.
“Execute it, of course. For the crimes it committed on my lands, no number of executions could possibly atone for it. However, I am merciful and magnanimous—it deserves a thousand deaths, but I shall reduce the sentence to just one.”
As the evil spirit wailed pitifully, the still-young Schult felt a pang of sympathy. But such a thing had no effect on Priscilla.
Perhaps sensing a final chance, the evil spirit ceased its desperate flailing. It cocked its head, fixing its many eyes solely on Schult, and began chirping in a pitiful, pleading tone. Its cries, almost intelligible, begged for his help, promising to do anything in return.
“……”
Schult’s throat tensed, and his eyes welled up with tears. But as he silently looked to Priscilla for guidance, her crimson gaze remained utterly unwavering.
Before any tension could build between the two, Al interjected.
“Even if what the evil spirit did now was just a passing whim…even if it swore it had a change of heart and would never do it again…”
“Sir Al…?”
“You heard the same story I did back in the village. The first victim was lured into the forest by some pretty lights. In other words, it was always this thing’s intention to target humans.”
An evil spirit was evil by nature—that wouldn’t suddenly change. There was no rhyme or reason to their hostility. They were simply natural enemies of humanity.
There was no need to sympathize with such a being.
As Schult fell silent, absorbing Al’s words, Priscilla drove her sword in further.—
“Burn slowly. Your death shall serve as a requiem for my fallen people.”
Her Sunlight Blade glowed, radiating a deep crimson light. Then flames burst forth from the tip, engulfing the evil spirit in a brilliant blaze.
The spirit let out a final shriek. But its voice was drowned out by the flames, growing fainter and fainter—until it abruptly ceased, never to be heard again.
And with that, the curtain fell on the serial missing persons case—ending the Nightmare at Ladrima.
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