IVAGHD 18

Chapter 18

From the tree across from them, Ranken threw a rope with a grappling hook attached.

“Don’t do anything stupid. You said swords don’t work well on it.”

“If I stab with all my strength, it will. If this goes on, my stamina will run out and I’ll get gored by its horns.”

“Forget that. Wrap the rope around the tree trunk and throw it to Viretta!”

Iola followed Ranken’s words at once. He looped the rope once around the tree trunk, turned the grappling hook toward Viretta, then looked back at Ranken.

On the opposite tree, Ranken was wrapping the other end of the rope tightly around his body.

Before Iola could ask what he was planning, Viretta caught the flying hook. At the same moment, Ranken threw himself down from the tree.

As he fell, the rope moved like a pulley, lifting Viretta—who was on the other end—upward.

As soon as Viretta rose high enough, Iola grabbed the rope himself and pulled, lifting her onto the tree trunk.

“Are you all right?”

Hanging onto the trunk, Viretta gasped for breath.

“I’m fine. But Ranken—”

If Viretta had come up, that naturally meant Ranken had gone down.

And the situation was even worse. Because the rope had tangled and gotten caught around the tree, Ranken was dangling at a height where he could be gored by horns at any moment.

Even in that awkward position, he used his sword to saw at the rope. But the rope was tough and didn’t cut easily.

“I—I’m okay!”

Ranken shouted in a voice gone dry with fear.

“No, be quiet!”

The horned beasts, having lost sight of Viretta, slowed for a moment—then rushed again toward where Ranken was.

The great horned beasts had no particular intention. They simply ran the same route at the same time, and had a habit of goring anything visible with their horns.

Clinging to the branch, Viretta panted and shouted,

“It’s okay! I’ll save you right away! If we make loud noises, they’ll go the other way!”

“It won’t help. Their hearing isn’t very good. They’re sensitive to sight and smell. Step back, Miss Viretta.”

Iola stopped Viretta, who looked ready to jump down at any moment. He stretched one hand forward and stared intently at the ground.

“I can’t do that. Ranken’s in danger. Look, he can’t even run away. I have to save him—”

When Iola pressed down on her shoulder, Viretta finally took her eyes off Ranken and looked at him.

The gesture—one arm extended forward—was familiar to her.

It was the preparatory stance often used by people who cast magic without a staff.

“I’m not just telling you to retreat. It’s difficult for me to hunt the horned beasts, but—”

Was Iola a mage?

The question was answered immediately. The ground ahead of the charging horned beasts swelled up, then rose into a wide wall.

“—I can at least make an escape route.”

The wall of earth wasn’t thick—perhaps no thicker than a finger joint. If a horned beast charged headfirst, it looked like it would crumble at once.

But once their view was blocked, the horned beasts turned their heads without hesitation and ran in another direction.

Walls and trees were not targets to gore, and once their former target disappeared from sight, they forgot it quickly. They ran off another way, circling a large tree.

Ranken let out a sigh of relief and finally cut through the rope. Landing safely on the ground, he used the remaining length to climb back up the tree.

Watching from the other side, Iola also let out a breath.

“It’s fortunate we weren’t eaten.”

Viretta stared, eyes wide. Relief washed over her—along with amazement.

“Mr. Iola… you’re a mage?”

“Yes. I can use magic to some extent.”

Calling it “to some extent” was far too modest. He had created a large wall in a short time, without any chant. That was no ordinary level of skill.

“What kind of magic do you use, and how much?”

“I mainly use earth magic. I’m not that outstanding. Just enough that I didn’t need to major in magic studies.”

That meant he had all the basics at least. To major in magic at any academy, one needed to be among the best in the area.

Being able to use a little magic and reaching the level of a mage were completely different.

The former applied to many people, including Viretta. Unless one was truly talentless, anyone could learn very simple magic.

But to be called a mage, one had to study magical formulas intensely, with talent to support it. Iola wasn’t just someone who could use magic—he was worthy of the title “mage.”

For someone said to have disappointed his father, he was remarkably capable.

“Thanks. I lived.”

Now safely in the tree, Ranken brushed himself off and offered his thanks. Iola simply said, “Not at all,” and nodded lightly.

“That was dangerous, Ranken. Don’t do that again. I could’ve escaped on my own.”

Wiping sweat from his face and arms, Ranken glanced at Viretta, who was scolding him.

“Don’t forget. I’m your guard. You were the one about to jump down. Don’t do reckless things.”

“I can’t help it. You’re my knight. Protecting my knight is my destiny.”

“If you really think that, then you misunderstand what a knight is.”

The horned beasts, having circled the large tree, passed beneath the tree they were on this time, following the path they had worn down with their hooves.

They had planned to lure them here and jump down from both sides to strike, but with ten of them, there was nothing they could do. Trying to separate even one would likely end with getting gored.

Looking down at them, Iola murmured,

“I’m sorry. Earlier, I thought you had a plan, Miss Viretta, so I didn’t use magic.”

“Ah—no, it’s fine. I did have a plan.”

“Vi—ret—ta.”

Ranken stared at her, as if asking whether she was really bluffing even after all that running and panic. Viretta shook her head briskly, fanning herself with cool air and ignoring his glare.

“Anyway, it’s pointless now. The best option is to wait here until the horned beasts leave, then go down.”

“Yeah. You must be exhausted, and I’m about to die too. We came up way too unprepared. Even when hunting deer, three people rush in together.”

Ranken leaned back against the thick trunk. Viretta had run for her life, and he had nearly been gored—so they had tried hard and failed spectacularly.

It was a perfect little adventure story. Now they could just go down and rest.

As he exhaled loudly, Iola let out a weak, easy laugh from across the way.

“That’s right. Hunting isn’t easy. When Miss Viretta spoke so confidently, I couldn’t help thinking it might work.”

There was no malice in Iola’s words.

He wasn’t trying to blame her, mock her, or even fault her.

His laughter was simply acceptance of reality.

They had rushed into the mountains, swept along by Viretta’s passion, but learned the obvious truth that enthusiasm alone wasn’t enough.

If anything, it was close to praise—admiration that she could inspire such confidence despite how difficult it was.

But to Viretta Medlitch, who had spent her life holding herself high, those words cut in the worst possible way.

“Without realizing it, I believed you”?

Didn’t that sound like he regretted believing in her?

“…No.”

Viretta stared intently at the horned beasts, who continued their rough patrol along the same path. Her small fist pressed against the tree curled tightly.

“Three people can’t hunt horned beasts? We weren’t prepared enough? That’s what a dog tucking its tail and running away would say.”

“Yes… I suppose I deserve to be called a dog.”

“That’s not what I mean! We’re not defeated dogs. It means we still have a chance! Of course we do! Because for me, Viretta, nothing is impossible!”

His belief was right. It had to be right. He couldn’t be disappointed in Viretta. He couldn’t think it was just bluster.

If even a tiny chance remained that he wouldn’t be disappointed in her, Viretta would run forward and seize it.

Reality didn’t matter. The moment one faced reality and accepted it, one lost.

Instead of facing reality, Viretta looked at the sunlight trapped between the trees.

Then she traced the movement of the horned beasts again. Her eyes followed their short, thick legs and their horns without rest.

“I’m a master hunter. I caught a wolf with my bare hands at eight years old. I can do this.”

“You caught a wolf at eight?” Iola asked, shocked as if he’d heard something impossible.

That only made Viretta even more triumphant.

“Yes. With these small hands, I caught a wolf and saved a princess.”

At eight years old, she caught a wolf with her bare hands and saved a young princess. The rescued princess praised her and said she would grant her a knighthood.

Viretta repeated the story she had always told so clearly, lowering her gaze.

Someone as great as her—was she supposed to cower in a tree, afraid of horned beasts, and then run away?

“They’re just cows that move in herds! They can’t be a match for me, my knight, and my fiancé! We’re going to hunt dragons, you know! Right, Mr. Iola?”

When she asked that, Iola always met her gaze the same way—

With eyes full of absolute trust,

“Yes.”

She couldn’t betray that trust.

Steeling her heart, Viretta straightened her posture.