The Mad Swordsman of the Shadow World
Chapter 58
SHAAAAAA.
Heavy rain was pounding against the mountain range.
The entire forest was soaked, and a low mist drifted down along the ridges.
Inside a cave on the mountainside...
Crackle. Crackle.
A small campfire burned a short distance from the entrance.
The rain had begun shortly after Theron and the guide left the battlefield.
For two people who were already limping along while supporting each other, it could hardly have come at a worse time.
But the guide had not panicked.
"There's somewhere nearby where we can take shelter from the rain."
True to his words, he had located this cave before the rain became too heavy.
The entrance was narrow, but the interior was fairly deep, and the ground was dry.
There was even a pile of dry firewood in one corner, apparently left behind by someone who had used the cave before.
"I've used this place a few times."
That was all the guide said before expertly starting a fire.
His claim that he knew the mountain range like his own home had clearly not been an exaggeration.
Once the fire was burning steadily, the two began treating each other's injuries.
Theron checked the guide's bag.
It contained a considerable number of supplies, evidently packed in preparation for unexpected situations.
"You're thoroughly prepared."
"It's difficult to do this kind of work if you aren't."
Theron took a bottle of alcohol from the bag.
He could tell how strong it was simply by opening the cap.
"This is going to hurt a little."
Theron poured the alcohol over the guide's wound.
The man's expression immediately twisted.
"Ghk..."
"Bear with it."
"...That's easy for you to say."
While the guide clenched his teeth, Theron took several medicinal herbs from a bundle in the bag, crushed them, and applied them to the wound.
Then he wrapped it tightly with a clean cloth.
His movements were practiced and efficient, without a single unnecessary action.
"...Why are you so used to doing this?"
Because I've done it more times than I care to remember.
On the battlefield, bandaging wounds was simply another part of fighting.
Of course, Theron had no intention of saying that aloud.
Once the treatment was finished, the guide examined Theron's ankle.
"Fortunately... I don't think the bone is damaged."
"Do you have anything we can use as a splint?"
"Of course."
The guide spoke quietly as he began securing Theron's ankle with wooden branches.
He placed two straight pieces of wood on either side of the ankle bone, tore a piece of cloth into long strips, and wrapped them tightly into place.
Despite being unable to use one of his arms properly, the guide worked without hesitation.
Theron chuckled.
"You're pretty good at this."
"This much is basic."
The guide answered casually as he secured the remaining cloth.
"Spend enough time getting knocked around in the mountains, and you'll learn whether you want to or not. I've seen plenty of people end up with permanent limps because they couldn't get a splint on their injuries in time."
Theron looked down at his splinted ankle.
Now that it was secured, the pain that had flared with every movement had eased considerably.
The guide took some dried meat from his bag and offered it to Theron.
"Eat something. When your body's injured, you need food."
"Thanks."
The two chewed the tough dried meat while silently watching the fire for a while.
SHAAAAAA.
Rain continued pouring outside the cave.
Their silence could have been awkward.
Strangely, though, it felt quite comfortable.
Perhaps it was because they had already risked their lives together.
The distance that had existed between them when they first met had somehow diminished by half.
After swallowing another mouthful of dried meat, Theron spoke.
"Before we entered the mountains, you said there was something you needed to find."
"That's right."
"What exactly are you looking for?"
Crackle.
A piece of firewood popped in the campfire.
The guide did not answer immediately.
As he watched the flames, an unreadable emotion briefly passed through his eyes.
"...There's something I have to find."
He closed his mouth after that, apparently unwilling to say anything more.
Theron did not press him.
After all, everyone had at least one personal matter they did not want to discuss.
Theron himself was no different.
He shifted his position.
"Then let's get some rest for now."
His manner of speaking was hardly what one would expect from a child, but that no longer seemed to matter.
The guide simply nodded and leaned against the cave wall.
Theron closed his eyes as well.
Then he calmed his breathing and slowly began circulating the mana inside his body.
The mana traveled through his blood vessels, passing over the injured areas.
His ankles and knees.
His waist and shoulders.
The price of using the complete form of Wandering Wind had been considerable.
Considering that he had only imitated the technique for a few breaths, there was hardly a part of his body that remained undamaged.
Tiny tears had formed throughout his muscles, and the tendons in his ankles were nearly half-damaged.
But he had no regrets.
Those few breaths were the reason he was still alive.
And more importantly...
That sensation.
The moment the boundaries between one step and the next had disappeared.
The feeling that his body had become the wind itself.
That sensation still lingered vividly in his feet.
If that was the true, completed form of Wandering Wind...
If he could eventually use that footwork perfectly without paying such a price...
Don't rush.
Theron suppressed the impatience rising inside him.
The path was already in his hands.
All he needed to do now was let his body recover.
His mana completed another circuit through his body.
SHAAAAAA.
The steady sound of rain settled over the two of them.
SHAAAAAA!
A group of men was running along the mountain path beneath the pouring rain.
They were the trackers of Barkanis.
The first thing they discovered near the entrance to the mountain range was five corpses.
"They're mercenaries. They've been dead for a day or two."
At the tracker's report, the captain silently crouched beside the bodies.
The rain had washed over them.
But their wounds remained clearly visible.
A stab wound that had entered precisely beneath the jaw.
A blow that had crushed a man's throat.
And a puncture wound left by a dagger in the neck of the man who had collapsed while trying to escape.
Every one of them was taken down with a single strike.
Seven armed mercenaries.
And not one of them showed signs of having put up any meaningful resistance.
Each attack had targeted a vital point, killing its victim by the shortest possible means.
Could this truly be the work of a child who was not even fifteen?
"Captain?"
"...We keep moving."
The captain stood and pressed his lips tightly together.
