Chapter 14: Liminal

Altair had killed and collected what he could.

At first, he stayed close to the edge of the silenced dome, careful not to stray too far. He moved slowly, drawing goblins toward him, inside the dome, one at a time and never allowing himself to be surrounded.

He made certain that his back was never exposed to open ground for more than a moment. The memory of the earlier panic still clung to him, sharp and vivid, the moment when his thoughts had scattered and his body had nearly failed him. He refused to let himself return to that state.

Somewhere along the way, something had changed.

Ever since the close call. Ever since the appearance of the golden figure.

He noticed it first in his footing. His balance no longer wavered when the ground dipped unexpectedly or when roots lay hidden beneath the carpet of leaves. His steps landed where he intended them to land, as if his body already knew what the terrain demanded before his mind caught up.

He became aware of small details without consciously searching for them. The faint crunch of soil behind him that meant movement. The subtle pressure shift in the air when something leapt. The way a goblin held its shoulders that betrayed whether it would commit to an attack or falter at the last second.

He knew when to dodge and when to stand his ground. He understood how far to step back without wasting motion, how to reposition without breaking his flow. Distances made sense to him now. He knew exactly where his sword would be lethal and where a goblin’s claws would reach him first.

Strangely, the more goblins he killed, the less time he spent gasping for air afterward. His lungs still burned, but the pain faded faster. His legs trembled less and steadied sooner. Shallow cuts crossed his arms and sides, and his body was far from healthy, yet exhaustion no longer pressed down on him with the crushing weight he expected.

He should have been slowing. He should have been struggling to remain upright.

Elaister’s metal plate was still strapped to his back, the same one that had nearly broken him earlier. It remained heavy, undeniably so, but it was no longer overwhelming. It was simply there, a burden he could account for rather than something that threatened to drag him to the ground.

That realization unsettled him more than the fighting itself.

It felt as though he had grown stronger, but the idea did not sit right with him. The explanation was too simple, too convenient. From the very beginning, something about this situation had been wrong.

Demon touched goblins were not ordinary monsters. Each one was considered a Near High B rank threat. If even a single one appeared near his village, the warriors would not engage it. Messengers would be sent and adventurers would be called.

And yet he had fought one.

Not only fought it, but survived. He had won, no, not just won, he was hunting them.

Had he never been weak to begin with. The idea clashed violently with everything he knew about himself. He had lived with his limits all his life. He had felt them in his aching muscles, in the way others passed him over without hesitation. He had been trusted with burdens instead of blades, relied upon to carry rather than to fight.

Learning this quickly should have been impossible. He had altered his movements, his timing, and his judgment within the span of a single battle. This had been his first real fight, not training, but true combat where a single mistake meant death. It’s…

…It’s unnatural.

…

…

…

The thought lingered, uncomfortable and unanswered. Still he pushed it aside because there was still work to do.

As he moved farther from the silenced dome, living goblins became harder to find. What replaced them were bodies. Goblin corpses lay scattered across the forest floor in grim abundance.

Many bore the same wound, a scorched, gaping hole burned clean through their hearts. Some were pinned to trees, the beam that killed them continuing on to carve smoking channels into the wood behind. Others lay face down in the dirt, limbs twisted as if they had been running when death overtook them. A few stared upward, empty eyes fixed on the sky, as though they had seen something descending moments before the light erased them.

Altair swallowed and began dragging the bodies together.

The work was slow and grueling. Even in death, the goblins were heavy, their limbs awkward and stiff. He pulled them into piles just as instructed, one after another, his muscles protesting with every trip. Sweat stung his eyes, and his breathing grew rough, but he did not stop.

As he worked, a realization settled over him.

“Is she intentionally killing them to my ability?”

The answer became harder to ignore with each corpse he moved. Most of the fighting had already been done. Elaister had cleared the majority of the area with terrifying efficiency. What remained were fragments.

The ones meant for him.

Once the outer area around the cave was mostly cleared, he edged closer again. That was when he noticed the other kind of bodies.

They were barely recognizable as goblins. Misshapen blobs of warped flesh lay scattered near the cave mouth, as though their forms had melted and hardened at the same time. Limbs fused together. Faces erased. The air around them carried a faint, acrid scent. Altair assumed it was Elaister’s work. There was no other explanation that made sense.

“Even for her, this is a bit too much?”

Even so, he gathered them as well.

Trip after trip, he dragged the remains toward the growing pile. His arms ached deeply now, and his fingers felt numb and stiff. Just as he neared the cave entrance again, the ground trembled beneath his feet.

A scream tore out from deep within the cave.

It was monstrous and wrong, loud enough to rattle his bones and set his teeth on edge. The sound carried pain and fury in equal measure.

Altair froze.

An instinct flared within him, sharp and urgent. Go inside. Run toward the sound. Help. Fight.

Reason caught him before his feet could move.

‘I would only get in her way.’

What stopped him was not fear, at least not in the way he understood it. His mind was unnaturally clear, calm in a way that felt foreign. Logic took hold, steady and unyielding.

“I should believe in her,” he murmured.

An image surfaced in his thoughts. Elaister alone in the forest, her body broken, laughing even as she cried, repairing herself piece by piece with relentless determination. Enduring pain as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience.

“After all, she is strong.”

He stood there, listening, waiting. Time stretched until it felt unreal.

Then the wind burst out of the cave.

Purple light followed.

“Oh, how convenient?!”

The voice barely registered before impact.

Something slammed into Altair’s stomach with brutal force. The air was ripped from his lungs as Elaister’s metal left forearm drove into his gut like a battering ram, lifting him clean off the ground. Pain exploded through his core, white and blinding, as his body folded around the blow.

Before he could even process what was happening, her arm hooked firmly around his waist. The plates on her boots flared to life.

The world dropped away.

Altair felt his stomach lurch as they shot skyward, wind screaming past his ears. His feet kicked uselessly as she dragged him along, flying hard and fast back toward the silenced dome.

He could not breathe. He could not speak. All he could do was cling to consciousness as the forest vanished beneath them and the sky swallowed everything else.

Elaister flew toward the silenced dome with Altair secured firmly in her left arm, the forest rushing past beneath them in a blur of shadow and green. The wind whipped at his clothes and tugged at his hair, and he focused on breathing evenly as his stomach slowly settled from the violent ascent.

“You piled them inside, right?” Elaister asked mid-flight. Her tone was casual, almost cheerful, as if they were discussing packing supplies rather than the aftermath of a massacre.

Altair swallowed, the lingering nausea twisting uncomfortably in his gut. “Y yeah. I mean… most of them. I did not collect everythi-”

“Oh, that is quite a job,” she replied, cutting him off without looking back.

Her gaze shifted forward, and only then did Altair truly notice what lay ahead.

The pile.

It loomed at the edge of the clearing, far larger than it had felt while he was dragging bodies one by one. Goblins were stacked haphazardly atop one another, their forms tangled together with blobs of melted flesh, severed limbs, and scorched remains that no longer resembled anything living.

‘I did that?’ He thought.

Elaister hovered in the air for a moment, silently observing the scene below. It was impossible to tell whether she was evaluating the efficiency of the cleanup or simply admiring the result.

Then she descended, boots crunching softly as they touched down atop dirt, bone, and something unpleasantly wet. Altair barely had time to regain his footing before she released him and set him down beside her.

They stood there in silence for a few seconds. Altair felt awkward, unsure where to look or what to say. He never knew what to expect from Elaister, and that unpredictability kept him perpetually on edge.

Then she moved.

“Sorry about that. I am a bit in a hurry, your tummy fine?” Elaister said as she rose onto her toes, compensating for their height difference. With her right hand, she patted his head in a strangely affectionate gesture, like a proud parent praising a child. “You are doing great, Donkey. You are not in such bad condition either. I honestly thought I would have to lift you sky high with that plate on your back, but look at you proving me wrong.”

“Y yeah…” Altair muttered, completely caught off guard by the praise and the casual touch.

“Do not worry. We are going to catch up with the party. It is almost lunchtime, and you will get your rest.”

She raised her left arm while still patting his head with her right.

Pandora responded instantly.

In the blink of an eye, the entire pile vanished. Bloodstains, corpses, gore, even the lingering stench were swallowed whole. The clearing was left eerily pristine, as if reality itself had been wiped clean.

Altair stared at the empty ground, his mind struggling to catch up.

“We are already going?” he asked. “Didn’t you say there were at least three goblin nests around here?”

He was not sure how to look at her anymore. Elaister was being disturbingly considerate, and that unsettled him more than her violence ever had. The kindness felt uncanny, almost unnatural, and a small part of him wondered if this was some kind of elaborate mimicry.

“There is something I want to check out in that dungeon,” she replied. “We can worry about the goblins after that. You saw how easy it was for me to clear them, right?”

She stopped patting him and reached into Pandora, retrieving two small, tube-like vials. One contained a thick, opaque crimson liquid that clung heavily to the glass. The other held a clear blue fluid that emitted a faint, steady glow.

“Here. Drink the red one first. Then the blue.”

She held them out without ceremony.

Altair accepted them, hesitating as his fingers wrapped around the cold glass. “…Is it just me, or are you avoiding the topic?”

“Drink.”

“…Got it.”

As he raised the red vial, something caught his eye, and his chest tightened.

Elaister’s mask was fully engaged again, the metal mouthpiece sealing her lower face. Along the seams that traced her jaw were dark red stains.

Blood.

And not only on the mask.

Beneath her white outer cloth, parts of her black shirt were soaked through with something darker than the goblins’ corrupted black blood. The fabric clung faintly to her form, damp and heavy.

“…Elaister-san, your-”

“Just think about yourself first,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “We have to go.”

Before he could say anything else, she grabbed his wrist and tipped the red vial upward, forcing the liquid into his mouth.

“Ghk?!”

The taste was sweet, almost overwhelmingly so.

Then heat exploded inside him.

Warmth surged through his chest and raced down his limbs, flooding every nerve with intensity. Pain dulled almost instantly. Bruises faded beneath his skin. Cuts burned, then itched, and finally sealed shut as if they had never existed. His breathing steadied, but at the same time his strength drained away, leaving his muscles weak and heavy.

His legs trembled, and his vision blurred as the world tilted slightly.

“That is processed Blood Demon blood,” Elaister explained calmly. “It triggers accelerated regeneration. The downside is that it burns through your energy reserves extremely fast. You are essentially forcing your body to sprint while it heals.”

She guided his unsteady hand toward the second vial.

“That is why the blue one comes next. It replenishes energy and cuts the forcing effect short.”

She pressed it to his lips, and Altair drank.

Cool clarity spread through him, washing away the weakness. His breathing evened out, and the trembling subsided, replaced by a strange sense of lightness.

“Hah…” He blinked slowly. “…I feel better?”

“Good.”

He looked up at her, unease tightening in his chest. “E-Elaister-san. You are hurt. Why do you not take them too?”

She paused, if only for a fraction of a second.

“It only works properly on fully organic creatures,” she said. “I have… rocks stuffed inside me.”

The way she said it was completely offhand, as though she were talking about an old injury.

“Introducing Blood Demon mixtures into my system would be a questionable idea.”

She reached into Pandora once more, pulled out a small, jagged mana gem, and popped it into her mouth like candy. A faint crack echoed as she bit down, purple light flickering briefly along her visor.

“I will fix myself once we regroup. This will suffice for now.”

“But-”

Elaister’s right hand snapped up and clamped firmly over his mouth.

She leaned in, forcing him to tilt his head downward until they were face to visor. The purple glow behind the mask looked darker now, with a red tinge creeping along the edges like heat bleeding through glass.

“Here is the deal,” she said quietly. “You shut up and you fly using that disk on your back again.”

Her fingers tightened slightly.

“Otherwise, how about I carry you with Crackane wrapped around your mouth?”

She released him.

Altair swallowed hard. “T-the former, please.”

That flip flap attitude settled it. There was no doubt anymore. The girl in front of him was the real deal, not a mimic.

“Good.” She snapped her fingers.

The plate on Altair’s back shifted, and the crushing weight vanished. In its place came a buoyant pull as mana surged through the device. His feet lifted cleanly off the ground, and he stiffened instinctively, but the motion stabilized almost immediately.

Elaister ignited the plates on her feet once more.

They rose together.

Then, wrapped in purple light and rushing wind, they shot into the sky, leaving the once blood-soaked clearing far behind.

つづく