I regulated my breathing and took up position behind Mastaa, waiting. Sharpening my senses and bracing myself to respond to anything, I felt a swell of pride—as if I had become a full-fledged, first-rate Hunter.
It had been a while since I served as Mastaa's bodyguard.
When Mastaa, who had no shortage of enemies, went outside, he almost always brought a bodyguard along. Even when he stayed in, he'd occasionally bring one. It was probably less about protection and more about exchanging information or gauging each other's strength. He had been picking me even back when I was far less capable than I am now, and honestly, a Level 8 didn't need a bodyguard.
Normally, the role of bodyguard fell to members of the Mourning Specters. The sisters were always busy, but one of them was usually free, so unless the Mourning Specters were out on a hunt, Tino rarely got tapped.
Today, it just so happened that I was the only one with time on my hands. You could call that luck.
A pleasant mix of tension and excitement filled my whole body. I always kept myself in a state where I could give my all at a moment's notice, but today my condition was peak.
It wasn't as though we hadn't seen each other in ages, but being alone together like this was quite… maybe it really had been a while. Just that alone put me in the best mood.
Bodyguard assignments fell into two categories: trials and non-trials. When strange incidents were occurring, it was usually the former. But Mastaa's instincts were telling him—this time, it would be the latter.
It was still a bit noisy, but the string of bizarre disturbances that had been popping up lately had mostly been settled, and Mastaa himself had said he wouldn't be going outside for a while. We had gotten caught up in that terrifying Treasure Weapon box—Mastaa had named it "Mimik-kun"—and while I was keeping a bit of a low profile, I had also managed to meet my trial quota. Besides, the Imperial Capital was fundamentally safe. I couldn't imagine anything else happening.
In other words, this was—like a date. We weren't going outside, but it was practically a date. An at-home date, as they say. The ring I had properly obtained had been delivered, and I could feel my luck turning.
The lounge, which had been half-destroyed by the attack, had finally gotten contractors in, and cleanup was well underway.
The cracks that had raced across the floor and walls had disappeared. All that remained was replacing the shattered glass and swapping out the broken tables for new ones, and everything would be back to normal.
There, in a corner of the lounge, Mastaa sat across from the "carpet"—at one of the few tables that had, fortunately, survived the destruction.
Beside him sat Mimik-kun—perhaps the most terrifying Treasure Weapon I had ever seen—and his expression was deadly serious.
This was no ordinary carpet. It was a world-renowned Treasure Weapon. I had heard he received it as payment for guarding the Emperor, but according to Lucia, even though it was a "flying carpet," apparently it refused to let anyone ride on it.
The carpet, summoned by its master, remained utterly composed. It crossed its legs—or something like legs—held a coffee cup it never actually drank from in one hand—or something like a hand—and gazed—or something—at Mastaa.
The attitude of a great dignitary, honestly. If it hadn't been a Treasure Weapon—and if my assigned role hadn't been standing behind it on guard duty—I would have disciplined it on the spot.
I was used to Mastaa suddenly doing random things, but what on earth was he planning this time?
I had been hoping we might finally get to sit and chat together, or maybe go out for something sweet, but— I held my breath and watched the situation unfold like a loyal knight. Mastaa closed his eyes for a few seconds and clasped his hands together, then opened them and spoke quietly, gazing at the carpet.
"You know, I think if you just tried a little harder, you could really make something of yourself. A flying carpet is already one of the most famous Treasure Weapons out there, and your utility is second to none—comparable even to a Space-Time Bag. Plus, you have all the essential qualities of a flying carpet—size, carrying capacity, speed, mana efficiency—at an exceptionally high level. Among all the Treasure Weapons I own, you unquestionably have the most potential. That's something to be proud of."
"…………"
"Believe in yourself, Ka-kun. I don't know what happened in your past, but you can't keep living a listless life like any other carpet. You're not the kind of guy who ends up like that! This is advice from a friend to a friend. Fly! Carry people on your back! You can soar higher and faster than anyone!"
Mastaa… he's giving a pep talk to a carpet…
Taking Mastaa's words in, the carpet tapped the table with its index finger—or something like an index finger—tap, tap.
It was clearly not listening. Well, the more fundamental issue was where its ears even were. Mastaa really did have all sorts of strange Treasure Weapons. My understanding of Treasure Weapons had long since gone out the window.
But honestly, why was Mastaa so fixated on the flying carpet? Flying carpets were famous and commanded high prices because merchants and the like all clamored for them.
If a Hunter wanted to fly, they could just fly themselves. I couldn't do it, but at Level 8 it would be easy enough—or there was always the option of asking Lucia to carry me.
Watching the pep talk aimed at a one-of-a-kind carpet while squirming restlessly, Mastaa pressed on with even more fervor.
"If you're lacking confidence, I'll walk you through practice step by step. We'll build up what you can do, little by little."
Where does a carpet even have hands…? And if Mastaa's going to be that gentle with a carpet, be gentle with me instead!
When I got swallowed by the box, I managed to get the ring too, and you didn't even praise me for that. Just a little bit, but if I were reborn, I wouldn't mind becoming a Treasure Weapon. I want Mastaa to teach me things step by step too.
No matter how gently Mastaa treated it, the carpet's reaction didn't change one bit.
If Mastaa had spoken that kindly to me, I would have wagged my tail with joy—no, sorry, Mastaa. There's probably something suspicious about it. After all, I'd been subjected to all kinds of special training like that before…
"Look at Mimik-kun! As a Space-Time Bag, its excellence is practically unmatched! At this point, you could argue it has too many functions. But you could do the same if you just put your mind to it—"
As Mastaa reached out with a desperate expression, the carpet slapped his hand away. The sheer brutality of it changed Mastaa's expression.
……Mastaa… why do you look so happy about this?!
But this was as far as it went. I was a bodyguard, and I couldn't just stand by and watch the carpet's insolence any longer. Who knew when someone might walk into the lounge?
Besides, this way, even though we finally had our moment alone together, I was being left completely out of the picture. Why did I have to have my date ruined by an inanimate object—even if it was a Treasure Weapon?
Putting on a steely expression, I clapped my hands together to draw Mastaa's attention.
"Mastaa, leave this to me! Using the training techniques Lucia drilled into me, I will make that Ka-kun obedient—without fail!"
"Ehh… there's no need for that. She's actually quite capable if she tries."
"No! This is completely unacceptable! Think of the example this sets!"
Mastaa's kindness was utterly inexcusable. The carpet deserved to be thrown into the Thousand Trials. And let me take its place instead! I was a capable girl too.
I had handled all sorts of requests before, but this was my first time trying to catch a carpet. I took my stance and crept closer, inch by inch.
The carpet glanced at my serious expression, shrugged—or something like a shrug—then floated up lightly, passed over my head, circled behind Mastaa, and pressed itself flat against his back.
I involuntarily held my breath. The movement was far too fluid.
As expected of the carpet Mastaa had picked—passing over my head like that, it was clearly no ordinary Treasure Weapon.
"You…! How brazen—no, using Mastaa as a shield—how despicable…! And Mastaa, could you at least put up a little resistance!?"
"……Wait a sec. If I can't ride it, couldn't I just wear it like a cape?"
Saying something absurd, Mastaa clasped the carpet's ends in front of him like a cloak.
Useless. Mastaa was no help in moments like this.
I took a deep breath and flipped my switch, accelerating my heartbeat just slightly. My heart was pounding with terrifying force, and heat spread through my entire body.
It was nothing compared to what the sisters could do, but it was a version of Peerless Shadow I had been practicing lately.
My five senses sharpened to a razor's edge, and a sharp pain shot through the depths of my brain. Every muscle in my body surged, begging to unleash its power. I never thought I'd be making my debut like this, but—I couldn't afford to be picky about methods.
I wasn't letting it get away. Once I caught this insolent carpet, I'd— "If you won't listen to what Mastaa says— I'll wring you out like a rag."
"T-Tino!? Calm down!"
Mastaa called my name in a panic, but it was precisely that attitude that let the carpet run roughshod. If he treated it the way he treated me, it would have developed some respect by now. This was discrimination.
Give the carpet a trial or spoil me rotten like the carpet—pick whichever one you want, Mastaa!
Using Mastaa as a shield was pointless. Our training levels were incomparable. A carpet that had been pampered and lived in luxury was no match for Tino, who had been forged through hellish trials. I'd peel it off in an instant and carve the hierarchy into it.
I focused on the carpet's every movement. Its body structure was different from a human's, but if I could read the origin of its movements, I could predict its actions…
Today's condition was perfect. If I succeeded in disciplining the carpet, my reputation would skyrocket. This time, Mastaa would definitely give me a reward.
I took a thin, controlled breath. Whether it was pressure from the eeriness radiating off me or not, the carpet's hand—or something—twitched. The moment I lunged to match the movement—a sound came from the entrance.
In an instant, I remembered my duty as a bodyguard and turned my attention there. Almost simultaneously, "that thing" collapsed to the floor.
It was wearing armor. Not the lightweight kind Hunters preferred for mobility, but an ornate set of knightly armor that doubled as a symbol of authority. The reason it wasn't wearing a helmet was probably because this was in the middle of town.
A man. Through the accelerated senses of my Peerless Shadow imitation, I clearly registered the face of the collapsing man a split second before he hit the ground.
Mastaa flinched at the noise, his eyes going wide.
"Wh… who is it?"
"……It's Hugh, Mastaa! Hugh Legrand, dispatched from the Zeroth Knightly Order! He was the one who shamelessly said he wanted to become your disciple!"
"Oh… ah…"
A half-hearted response. Was he serious, or joking? …Probably, almost certainly, joking. He was probably checking whether I actually remembered.
Between being knocked out by Lucia and carried in, and suddenly showing up to apprentice himself to Mastaa, he had made enough of an impression that I remembered.
He was an unpleasant man who reminded me somewhat of Ark, but there was no denying he was a member of the elite, officially sanctioned Knightly Order. What on earth had happened?
Mastaa, still seated, took a deep breath and muttered.
"Is he… dead?"
"……He's alive, Mastaa. His heart is still beating… He looks completely exhausted, though…"
I crept toward Hugh, who had collapsed face-down.
The armor that had been polished to a gleam when I first saw him was now blackened with soot and covered in countless scratches. There didn't seem to be any major visible injuries, but his hair was disheveled and a foul stench emanated from his entire body. It was—the smell of a gutter.
I prodded Hugh with the toe of my boot. But he only groaned and showed no sign of getting up.
"Mastaa… what should we do? He probably won't die if we just leave him, but…"
"Hmm… then maybe we should just leave him?"
Mastaa glanced back and forth between me and the carpet pressed against his back.
……Mastaa, isn't there a bit too much of a difference in how you treat a carpet versus a human?
An elite of the Zeroth Knightly Order meant he was almost certainly nobility. Leaving him like this would be a problem, wouldn't it?
As I hesitated, unsure what to do, Hugh suddenly moved with a grinding sound.
It seemed consciousness was returning, though he didn't have the strength to stand. He moved his body with slow, laborious motions and rolled onto his back.
One look at his face told me he was caught up in something extraordinary.
The fresh, clean-cut impression he'd given at first sight was completely gone. He had also been knocked out when he first arrived, but this was incomparable to even that.
His cheeks were hollow, dark circles hung heavy beneath his eyes, stubble covered his jaw, and his skin was dry. He looked like he had been stranded for days, yet the only thing that still gleamed was his pupils, visible through slightly parted lids.
When Hugh saw my face, he let out a faint, relieved smile. Then, as though mustering every last drop of strength, he raised his arm and extended what he had been holding in a desperate embrace.
"Take… this… to… the… master… I'm… counting… on… you…"
"!?"
It was pure reflex. A Thief's job was reconnaissance, detecting traps—keeping the Party safe from danger. If I waited to see, to understand, and then acted, it would be too late.
I took one step back and only realized several seconds later that I had retreated. My breath had caught, and I remembered to breathe again.
The danger-sensing ability honed through countless hunts was sounding an alarm.
That Mimik-kun had been a fearsome Treasure Weapon, but it gave off no presence. This, however, was something that even an ordinary citizen with no training whatsoever would recognize as a threat at first glance.
What Hugh was extending toward us—a small wooden box. Beautifully crafted, but nothing more than an ordinary box. Not a Treasure Weapon or anything of the sort.
But the miasma emanating from it was anything but ordinary.
A bone-deep chill that invaded my organs. A negative aura far stronger than any Phantom I had encountered before. Inside my brain, an unprecedented alarm was blaring. It was almost strange—I hadn't noticed it until Hugh offered it up.
I didn't know what was inside, but there was one thing I understood with absolute certainty.
This—was beyond what any person could handle.
Wha—what did you bring—no, wait, this— Hugh must have understood the terror of this box clearly. An ordinary person wouldn't just refrain from touching it—they wouldn't even want to come near it.
The fact that he had managed to carry it this far seemed almost miraculous. With miasma this dense, just being in proximity should have eroded one's spirit. Even if there was no physical pain—the spirit affected the body.
The arm holding the box trembled violently. Hugh spoke in a ragged voice.
"I… did it… I delivered… it… Ju—"
"You… delivered it? Delivered… what? Ju—? There's something you need to deliver!?"
There were a hundred things I wanted to demand answers to. Where did you find this? What is this? Why did you bring it here? This was clearly something that should be under heavy seal at the Luminous Spirit Church.
But there was no time for that. Hugh was at his limit—once he lost consciousness, it wouldn't return for a while. I needed as many hints as I could get.
Finally, strength left him entirely. His arm, which had been holding the box aloft, crashed to the floor. The box slipped from his grasp and slid across the floor, striking the wall before coming to a stop. The light faded from Hugh's eyes.
And then, with a bewildered expression, Hugh spoke his final words.
"Ju… butsu……… na, u"
"!?"
As if the thread connecting him to consciousness had snapped, Hugh's body went completely limp.
Forcing my stiff body to move, I looked toward Mastaa. Even as a Treasure Weapon, Mastaa could perceive this threat—he was clinging to—or something—Ka-kun more tightly than before—but still spoke in his usual carefree tone.
"Oh… I don't need it."
Yes. I understood perfectly. The Thousand Trials were not over after all.
……………No, no, no! That thing is way beyond anything I can handle, Mastaa! Absolutely impossible! ……Wait—wait a second, could that be because of the ring!?
Up until now, Mastaa had given the Clan members all manner of trials, and while some had been seriously injured, he had managed—barely, truly barely—to avoid any deaths. That was a miracle achieved through his extraordinary eye and cunning.
But this box was different. That thing would kill you. I didn't know what was inside, but even someone like me, enhanced by Mana Material, wouldn't stand a chance. The gap in scale was too vast. Had Mastaa learned of my growth and increased the difficulty of my trial?
If possible, I wanted to seal the box and have the Luminous Spirit Church take it—could even they handle it?
Fear and confusion. And on top of that, the guilt that maybe this was all happening because of the ring I had found—my body wouldn't move.
I had to run. That thing was beyond any Hunter's ability to handle. Mastaa, run! Contact the Luminous Spirit Church—this was my job!
Neither my mouth nor my tongue would cooperate. I managed to move my face just slightly, and trusting that it would get across, I pleaded with my eyes alone.
Mastaa nodded, passed right in front of me—frozen as I was—picked up the box from against the wall, and as though it were nothing more than a bad dream, as though completely oblivious to the miasma, casually opened the lid.